Anaideia part 9

Randy placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me into his study. Inside the walls were adorned with books of both ancient and contemporary origin. The clear scent of brown leather upholstery filled my nostrils. This would have made a fine library if it weren’t for the three Asian men sitting silently around a single pedestal table. Behind each of them was a large blazer-wearing man of Eastern Europe descent. “The men standing are Chechen. And the ones sitting are Chinese,” explained Randy. “I don’t expect any of the Chinese to walk out of here alive.”

“Do you think you want to be saying that out loud?” I ask Randy.

“Oh don’t worry,” he says. “None of them speak English. This is just a business negotiation. I met the Chinese in Hong Kong while I was acquiring exotic meats. You know, panda and the like. Well wouldn’t you know it, Chinese intelligence caught wind of my operation and my business license was revoked. In fact, the second largest country in the world wants me dead! The only logical conclusion is that one of these fellows talked. Hell, they might even be Chinese intelligence themselves! So I invited them out here to Norco under the guise of a trade deal. But what they don’t know is that under each chair is a deadly contraption: A trap door that leads to a fiery pit under chair number one; Chair number two is just a deceptive-looking electric chair; and chair number three, well, that guy will just get strangled by the Chechen behind him.”

“But what if none of them are informants or Chinese intelligence?”

“Oh don’t you see? That’s the genius of my plan. This is what’s called a Croatian negotiation. When you’re in the business I’m in, all your competitors and peers are monsters. You never show weakness. All these freaks understand is force. Don’t you get it? I’m the good guy here. I’m simply speaking the language that they can easily understand, which is that no matter what, I come out on top.”

Petrified into deathly silence, I stand motionless as Randy undergoes his negotiations. The three Chinese men sit blissfully unaware of the terror that awaited them.

Randy approached chair number one. “邊個講嘢?” he said.

Chair number one immediately panicked and lifted his finger to chair number three. Randy signaled to the Chechen behind him and the Chechen stomped his foot onto a pedal below the chair. A trap door opened and swallowed the Chinese fellow into a fiery inferno below. There were no screams. There was no time for that. The flame briefly erupted into the floor above causing intense heat and slightly singeing the table. The remaining two captives, still silent, were sweating.

It took every ounce of self-control to stop from pissing myself. “Uh, Randy,” I say, “what if he was telling the truth?”

Randy chuckled. “Possible but unlikely,” he said. “By immediately throwing his compatriot under the bus, he was unwittingly telling on himself.” Then he taps on his temple. “A little trick I learned from Star Trek VI.”

Randy approached chair number three and they exchanged a few words in Cantonese. The Chinese man nodded and Randy looked contented. “It looks like we struck a deal,” he says to me. But the Chechen behind the chair mistook the signal (because the Chechens didn’t understand English either) and grabbed the Chinese man’s head and snapped his neck. The Chechen released the body and the corpse’s head slammed onto the table below.

“Oh fuck! That guy was Chinese Intelligence!” Randy exclaimed. He screamed a few words at the Chechen in his native tongue then began pacing back and forth. “The Chinese will trace me back here,” he says to me in a panic. “I can’t leave any witnesses.”

Randy steps behind chair number two and slams on the pedal underneath. An untold amount of electricity rushes through the Chinese fellow’s body causing an unrelenting amount of blood to flow from his ears and mouth. As steam poured from his head, his eyes popped out of their sockets before his body lumped forward. It was a sight I hoped to never see again.

With the Chinese dead, Randy pulls out a small revolver and shoots the Chechens behind chairs one and two. Sensing his fate, the Chechen behind chair three charges after him. Randy sidesteps around the table behind chair one. Before the Chechen could reach him, the trap door opens and the Chechen falls to his demise.

In a matter of minutes, six men were killed before my eyes.

Randy wipes the sweat from his brow. “Phew! That was close!” he said. I watched him drag the other four bodies to the trap door to be incinerated. I continued to stand motionless. When he was finished, he slapped his hands together for a job well done. “The things I do to make a buck, eh?” he jests.

He takes a swig of vodka before coming back to his senses. “Oh, forgive me!” he laughs. “What brings by today?”

I begin to stammer a bit. “Uh, well, you know. It’s just been a minute since I’ve seen you.”

“You came all the way from Los Angeles just to say hi?”

“Of course,” I say nervously.

“No it’s not,” Randy states. Then he squares off in front of me and looks me dead in the eye. “I owe you $72 for the strip club the other night.”

“Oh that? I’ve forgotten all about that,” I lie.

He steps closer until his nose is mere inches from mine. “You know you shouldn’t lie,” he says. “The Bible says you shouldn’t lie.”

I nod and lower my head in defeated concession.

“Well goddamn, why didn’t you say so?!” Randy beams. “I feel like such an asshole.” He reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out a checkbook. “Forgive me for not repaying you sooner. My mind sometimes wonders.”

He finishes writing the check and places it into my hand. “I’ll be in Los Angeles on Tuesday,” he says. “Strip club next week?”

TO BE CONTINUED…